


doomsday

by namelikeafairytale, organizedcure (namelikeafairytale)



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-24
Updated: 2011-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-17 22:23:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/181900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/namelikeafairytale/pseuds/namelikeafairytale, https://archiveofourown.org/users/namelikeafairytale/pseuds/organizedcure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>written for mellamonaranja, for her birthday.</p></blockquote>





	doomsday

_  
**doomsday**   
_   


this isn't new. this is nothing different. they've always done this.

\--

mark sits in the living room, game control in his hand. he's tired. he's always tired, but their parent's aren't home, so if he were to sleep now, that would be foolish and also inconvenient. he doesn't know of another 8-year old that uses a word like inconvenient, but that's okay.

mark presses 'start' and lays back, the cold tile pressing hard against his back.

it's 12:43 am and he's tired, but he doesn't want to sleep. he should take advantage of this time without his meddlesome parents. and his brother thinks he's a brat, so he's not bothering to tell mark to go sleep, either. not that mark would listen. he just wants to pass this world. and get the key, so he can go to the next board, and be underwater. he likes the way that world looks. he likes the mix of warm and cool colors. he's so cold.

\--

when mark wakes up, he's not cold anymore. and he isn't sore, like he would have expected from a night of sleeping on the floor. this is strange.

there's a blanket over his body, and one underneath him. his checkered pillow rests under his head. mark looks around and sees eduardo.

his twin brother is curled up next to him. eduardo has no blanket, no pillow. his stomach arched along mark's side and he has one hand on mark's shoulder, the other splayed across the tile.

mark rolls his eyes, and smiles.

"stupid wardo. it's cold." mark says to his twin.

but they're not really twins. eduardo is 3 minutes older than mark. three whole minutes of life that he's experienced longer than mark. mark shouldn't be jealous of that, it's not like wardo ever uses it against him, or even acts like he's older, but still.

mark leans up, shifts the pillow closer to eduardo, and the boy reacts instinctively, moving into the warmth of mark's body and the soft fabrics.

mark doesn't move away. instead, he just leans into the couch to his right and watches eduardo sleep.

it's 8:56 am and wardo doesn't wake until 11.

he wonders why their dad didn't just move them into their room.  
he wonders why eduardo didn't just wake him.  
he doesn't think about his paused game, the television still glowing with the iridescent colors and koopa shells.  
he doesn't think about the way wardo's breathing hitches occasionally, a sign of his asthmatic lungs.

mark doesn't have asthma.

that afternoon, their parents treat them to lunch at golden corral, eduardo's favorite, because mark let him choose, and they tell mark and eduardo they are getting divorced.

mark doesn't react. just watched eduardo's blinks turn into tears at the table. their dad tells eduardo to 'man up.' he doesn't say anything to mark. nobody but wardo ever really says anything to mark.

in the car, mark watches the line of eduardo's lips as they begin to quiver, and when eduardo reaches for his hand over thick, grey seatbelts, mark smiles for him, and clutches back just as tight.

\--

four years later, they're in the sixth grade. four years of muffled fights, one-sided because they are conducted over the phone. mark realizes when he's ten, that this particular mom and dad did everything backwards. they had twins. fell in love. got married. stopped having kids. divorced. and then they fought, and compromised, and went out on dinner dates.

it was confusing, and mark doesn't like the mess that comes with relationships, he thinks.

then again, he's only 12, so what does he know.

\--

they're in the sixth grade when wardo gets his first girlfriend.

mark thinks she's stupid.

her name is christy. and she's annoying. and short. and mark really doesn't like her.

he knows that wardo knew this beforehand.

but there wardo was, in their bedroom, talking. they're getting dressed for school. thanksgiving is three weeks away, and wardo is talking about christy.

"she makes me feel weird, mark." eduardo says as he pulls off his pajama bottoms. he's smirks as he says this.

mark just shrugs. he pulls on a sweatshirt and he switches his pajama pants for cargo shorts. he curls his toes into his slip-ons. wardo will still need to select a shirt for the day, and then choose jeans accordingly, and mark will whine about how dumb that is, but wardo will still do it the next day.

"have you ever felt that way?" eduardo asks.

mark makes the mistake of looking at his brother.  
mark doesn't make mistakes.  
mark looks and looks.  
mark doesn't stop.  
mark feels weird.  
mark swallows and rolls his eyes.

eduardo just waits.

and that, that's different.

"... mark?"

\--

eduardo spends half of thanksgiving at christy's house.

mark spends it online, browsing the tech forums, and absorbing what he can.

\--

in seventh grade, mark notices that eduardo is popular.

and mark isn't. they're so different that people don't even know they're brothers until they hear the last names. and even then.

even then, mark is still outcasted.

\--

eduardo will invite mark to the movies with his friends. hell, even their mother will invite mark to the movies with eduardo and his friends. mark declines every single time.

he plays video games, reads comics, surfs the internet, and goes for runs.

in his mind, this is the one thing he can do that wardo can not.

and he feels horrible at first, the guilt makes him lag, like their old desktop pc.

but then he thinks of eduardo's friends and their parents who act like they're teenagers and throw tantrums, and then he stops thinking and feels the wind, braces himself for flight.

but he never takes off.

\--

one day, eduardo stops at mark's locker in the hallway. yeah, eduardo will smile at him throughout the day. that stupid, blinding, bright smile that makes christy blush and all the other girls stare. but they hardly talk. they hardly see each other. (that's mostly mark's fault, though.) eduardo stands next to mark, and mark can feel every ounce of hurt. it stings and mark doesn't know what to make of this, doesn't know why it's happening, so he just turns to eduardo.

"did you do it, mark?"

eduardo's stare is hard and the color of his eyes feel as cold as wet dirt. mark knows he's talking about what made christy cry in homeroom today. mark knows it means the words "christy lee is a dumb slut." marks knows the words because mark wrote them.

"wardo, what are you talking about?"

"mark." eduardo grits his teeth. "mark, please."

mark feels three things.  
he feels upset. eduardo shouldn't have thought to think that mark would do this. even though mark is entirely guilty.  
he feels annoyed. because christy is dumb. and she is a slut. so. it's not like he's slandering her name or anything.

the last feeling is important, mark thinks.  
he feels hot. he wants his name to come out of wardo's lips forever. he's never had wardo be upset with him before. mark likes it.

"i didn't write those things about christy. why would i do that?"

as soon as the words leave his mouth, eduardo is different. he slouches a little, color returns to his knuckles, and there's a little quirk of a smile.  
mark calls it his smile. 'cause eduardo doesn't do it for anyone else, no not even christy.  
dumb bitch.

"yeah, i didn't think so, but christy. she thinks you hate her, man-"

"i don't hate anybody." mark lies.

out of all the people in the world, mark wishes he didn't have to lie to his brother.

\--

eduardo breaks up with christy towards the end of their eighth grade year.

he comes home after math club, because wardo is popular enough, cute enough, to get away with it, and he's so not-eduardo, mark feels broken, antsy, worried.

it takes mark until after the awkward dinner, which he didn't eat, and after the awkward homework session, in which he does nothing, to ask eduardo if he is okay.

"mark, i don't want to talk about it."

"fine." mark snaps. and he feels incredibly childish about it.

eduardo just sighs and walks into their room, abandoning mark in the living room with all his feelings.

mark lays back down on the tile, alone. he turns on his stomach and the stone is cold against his hot forehead and his jumbled stomach. he is there for a long time until he hears the door to their room open and close behind eduardo. he sits up. he hears eduardo open the bathroom door and turn on the faucet. and mark pouts like a baby.

mark wants to wait until wardo gets out so he can try again.

he walks to the bathroom entrance and lingers there. their mother walks by and she raises an eyebrow at him, and mark stares. she too, sighs.

mark knows the language of sighs. he's heard many of them.

"turn off the lights when after your shower, mark."

there are no nicknames for mark.

he waits, and when he thinks he should stop, he hears a small noise, like a whimper. like a kicked puppy. and he goes hot.

his stomach is swirling and his organs are palpitating, and marks feels sick.  
he can't stop listening, though.  
he can't stop his breath from catching.

he hears barely-sighs. soft, incoherent messied sighs. and they go straight to mark's head, dizzying him.

mark knows this is wrong.  
mark reasons out that he is just trying to make sure eduardo is not having an asthma attack.  
mark knows exactly how wardo sounds when he can't get enough air.  
mark knows that this is something else.

he squeezes his thighs close, because it's starting to hurt, and it feels good, and he closes his eyes to the sounds of his brother, and mark imagines.

he imagines all the smiles. even the ones that aren't mark's only, but they're all for him, and they're all pressed against mark's skin. dragging, and the teeth behind the lips graze along mark's collarbone, and then mark imagines fingers. an impossible number of them, touching everywhere. pulling at mark's hair and prodding hard into mark's hips and then tracing lines and mathematical equations inside mark's thighs, and mark doesn't need to imagine wardo's beaming smile then, when wardo's fingers touch mark's dick and oh fuck.

the water shuts off and mark opens his eyes and he's wet, warm, and sticky inside his pants, and pushes off the wall and shuts the door to their room and changes faster than he has on any school day.

he's changed, on his bed, under the covers, and turned towards the wall when eduardo walks in.

"heh, already asleep, markers? milagre."

it isn't the sloppy portugese that eduardo picked up on summers with their dad, or the need to prove eduardo wrong that makes mark turn around.

"markers?" mark asks, bold, sort of maybe fucked out from coming in his pants, and yeah, maybe he just also wants to see his fourteen-year old twin with hair dripping wet.

eduardo blushes. eduardo fucking blushes. mark's dick twitches in interest. mark doesn't stop the smile.

"it's just a stupid nickname, sorry, mark, i shouldn't have-"

"it's fine. it's fine."

"okay, then." eduardo is suddenly aware of his naked vulnerability, and turns around to pull some pajamas out of the chest of drawers. he drags them on and pulls the drawstring tight.

and then eduardo just stands there and stares at the carpeted floor and he looks so sad.

mark gets off the bed, and walks towards him.

"what happened, wardo?" this is the closest mark has ever come to caring for anyone. he doesn't do this. he doesn't ask about people's days, or even want to listen out of courtesy, but he wants everything that his brother will give him. he even wants the parts wardo tries to keep to himself.

"don't act like you don't know, mark. you know everything." eduardo says, and it sounds like he's trying to get something out of mark, instead of the other way around.

"wardo, honestly," mark inhales, "if i knew what happened, i wouldn't be asking you to tell."

eduardo rolls his eyes and runs a hand through his hair. it stays in the air for a few seconds before slowly returning to rest on eduardo's forehead.

"why do you do that, mark?"

"i don't know what you're referring to. eduardo."

eduardo's eyes narrow at his spoken full name and he stares at mark, his hard brown eyes open and uneasy.

mark stares back.

their pupils catch sight of each other and then let go, just as quickly, flitting around to observe the rest of each other's eyes. mark dives into the chocolate, amber, sun-warmed dirt, and rustic color of eduardo's eyes, because he can. there are creases under wardo's eyes that should not be there. mark is sure his brother is generally happy, and he sleeps more than mark does. everyone sleeps more than mark does.

"that." eduardo's eyes are still on mark's. "you're always looking. you think i don't notice. you seem to think that i don't know how you-" eduardo sighs.

mark's never heard that one before, there's a shiver at the end, and mark thinks himself stupid for letting eduardo stay shirtless in the cold of their room, but he doesn't say anything about it. and he doesn't want to say anything in response to eduardo's statement. he doesn't even want to breathe.

"i wrote that christy was a dumb slut in the guy's restroom."

"yeah, i know," eduardo says, and he sounds happy. and mark looks up, and his smile is waiting for him.

"really, then why-"

"mark, you really think i don't notice?"

"wardo, you don't know what you're talking about."

"yes, i do. mark. mark. _mark._ mark, look at me."

mark had been staring at wardo's toes, a sharp contrast to the brown carpet. he stares up.

wardo seems to be enjoying himself and mark just wants to die. he raises his eyebrows as if to say, 'what?' and only glances at wardo's lips.

eduardo stretches where he stands, only a foot away from mark, and he extends his hand.

"hi mark."

"hello eduardo." and eduardo takes mark's hand and shakes it and he swears there's something else in the room besides them.

"hey you two," their mom says from the door. it's insane how much mark resembles her in looks. she has wide, curvy lips. her hair is wildly curly and her eyes are just plain brown. no rustic antiquity underneath. mark looks almost exactly like her. wardo looks like their father. handsome, tragically so, and petite. mark has an average build. wardo's hair is rich and almost copper in the sunlight, but really, it's just some sort of sienna hue. everyone always says eduardo looks so much like his father, as if mark was someone else's kid. they're twins, though, so that isn't possible. (unfortunately.)

"it's already eleven," she coughs. her voice is hoarse from her cigarette. "lights out in ten."

she smiles at them, warily, noticing their hands clasped in mid-air, and snorts to herself. she closes the door behind her.

and then eduardo is moving his fingers into the spaces between mark's and he's reaching up with his other hand to click off the light, and then mark's on his bed, and eduardo's right there with him. and wardo smells so clean, and his hair is wet, but it's comforting. the drops on mark's neck remind him that this is real.

it's not like they haven't slept in the same bed before.  
this isn't anything new.

eduardo's toes are cold on mark's legs, but mark likes it. and their fingers are pressing light touches on the backs of each other's hands. and mark likes that, too. and when eduardo's lips are open and warm against mark's collarbone, mark stills and waits and eduardo mouths the words "goodnight, mark," so that mark can't hear them, but he knows what eduardo says anyway.

they almost fall asleep like that. eduardo touching mark with every limb, one hand around mark's wrist, the other palming the skin of mark's stomach. and mark can't breathe. he has one hand captive, the other under eduardo's head. eduardo breathes for him, soundlessly, and mark thinks that's irony. or something.

he doesn't even know whose legs are whose anymore. he brings his knee up and finds eduardo's stomach, warm and hard. eduardo leans into the warmth and that's how mark finally falls asleep.  


  
eduardo wakes up first, a few seconds before mark. not three minutes. not today. mark feels eduardo's hands pulling up his own and then he feels eduardo nosing down his wrist, and he laughs at the sensation of it. his stomach feels wonderful. and when eduardo's lips are touching his skin, mark closes his eyes to it and bucks his hips closer to his brother, and then they're both all too aware of the insanity of their situation.

eduardo gasps, and then closes his eyes shuts and mark can tell he is trying not to smile. mark just tries to regulate his breathing and keep still.

but then eduardo crawls over mark's body and slides down down down and he still doesn't open his eyes.

"mark, move. do something." eduardo whispers, sounding desperate and daring, and mark can't not do as he says.

mark cants his hips up and eduardo shudders and presses his face to the corner where eduardo's neck and shoulder meets and this one touch shouldn't feel this good.

eduardo is making small noises, whimpers that leaves heated breaths against's mark's shoulder, in between quick stuttered gasps.

when sharp raps are made on their door, eduardo nearly growls.

"breakfast!" their mom yells and mark is scared shitless. eduardo just pull his head away, thrusts and thrusts, and it's hot. searingly so, and mark can't take all this sudden heat, all the spikes of pleasure he's feeling when wardo presses down harder, and the way he's riding mark, _how does he even do that_ , the way he's staring into mark's eyes, _like mark's pulling him down into hell and he's okay with it_. mark thinks he's going to come in his fucking pajamas and he closes his eyes in wait, relishing in the touch of wardo's bare stomach on his own, where mark's shirt has ridden up.

eduardo stops.

wardo stops and mark laments the loss of friction, grabbing eduardo's wrists in the half-light and when he opens his eyes, eduardo's face looks sullen, confused, almost pityingly.

they breathe heavily for a while. mark doesn't know where else to look, but at his brother's eyes.

and then wardo looks away first, which never happens, and he looks like he doesn't know which limbs to move first, unsure of how to maneuver his body, and that never happens either. it's supposed to be mark that can't maintain eye-contact for too long, mark that is insecure in his own skin.

when eduardo isn't touching mark anymore, mark stops staring and scrunches his eyes shut. he's so hard it hurts. he feels like sobbing, instead his breathing occurs raggedly and after a while, he comes down.

they linger in time like that. two inexcusable messes of sticky legs and bed-mussed hair. wardo says nothing.

mark never says anything anyway.

\--

neither mark nor eduardo shower this morning. mark just stays in bed, waiting until eduardo gathered selections of pressed pants and button downs. He walks out the room barefoot, so Mark takes advantage of the fact that Wa-Eduardo will take approximately thirty minutes to groom himself and get clothed.

he's already finished with breakfast, throwing his half-eaten soggy cereal in the sink, like it won't clog the drain, and not even rinsing his bowl. mark hears eduardo open the bathroom door.

their mom doesn't drop them off at school anymore. her hours change, but mostly she works graveyard, so she'll leave when they should be heading to sleep, and comes home as they should be waking. she trusts them. (she trusts eduardo to be responsible, and she trusts that mark won't leave the house, not really.)

they have to take the bus now. it picks them up 6 houses down, at the corner of their street and some shady alleyway.

mark drags his backpack off the table and leaves the house. the bus won't be at the stop for another fifteen minutes, but mark doesn't want to be in the house anymore. he can't stand the silence.

he knows eduardo is walking towards him before he hears footsteps. when he does he them, mark stares at a mailbox until the bus is beckoning them to board.

mark sits at the end of the bus. eduardo sits right next to him.

**Author's Note:**

> written for mellamonaranja, for her birthday.


End file.
